Down Among the Vicars
by Auntieoaty
Summary: Sam's father and uncles are converging on Aubrey's vicarage and Sam and Foyle end up down among the vicars. This story will, as usaual, receive an installment a day until complete; should be through next weekend. There is a two part prologue and 5 chapters after that.
1. Prologue 1 of 2

Disclaimer: own nothing / claim nothing / profit nothing All errors are mine; no Beta

Spoilers: As always potentially any episode

Author's Note: Character speaking in " " Inside information between a character or two and the reader in _Italics_

 **Prologue part 1 of 2**

Foyle was headed to Sam's Uncle Aubrey's vicarage. It had been a rough two years and he hoped she would soon be able to start her life anew. He spent most of the drive to Aubrey's remembering the events since Hilda Pierce's funeral.

Sam had lost the baby in mid-March and neither she nor Adam had handled it well. No one could blame them; it was a difficult and sad time all around. A few of months later, in the summer 1947, Sam was pregnant again; their hope renewed and optimism flourished. She had insisted on remaining active as a volunteer with a local reconstruction committee including organizing and decorating a hall for a large fundraising dance, in late autumn of 1947. She was moving up and down a ladder, pinning crape streamers to the window coverings; nothing strenuous. Sam had been sure to have some else move the ladder from spot to spot and hold it steady as she climbed up and down. All of a sudden she felt a sharp pain and nearly fell from the ladder. She managed, with the help of her ladder helper, Susan, to make it safely to the floor and then a nearby chair.

The day before Foyle had extended an invitation to Sam for tea the next day. As another sharp pain struck, Susan asked, "Should I call someone Mrs. Wainwright?" All Sam could think was Christopher was due soon to take her to tea. She was suddenly aware he would likely arrive after she had left for the hospital and didn't want him left to wonder or worry. When Susan repeated the question Sam said, "Mr. Foyle" through clinched teeth as pain struck again. Susan hadn't waited to hear more and hurried off to phone the man requested. As it turned out he was walking through the front doors as the she was reaching the phone at the front desk. Before she could have his number looked up, she heard him introduce himself and ask for Mrs. Wainwright.

Susan reached out and grabbed Foyle's arm; too familiar an action for a stranger and he started to voice his objection.

However, before he could begin, she turned to speak to the girl behind the desk; as she drug him by the arm down the corridor toward the dining hall, "Eleanor, call an ambulance, Mrs. Wainwright is hurt."

Foyle wrenched his arm from the young woman's grasp and charged ahead of her as he called back over his shoulder, "Where is she?"

"Through those doors at the end." Susan hollered after him as she continued in the same direction.

He reached Sam just as another stab of pain struck and she reached out to him, her glistening eyes full of fear and her voice pleading in desperation, "Sir! Please, it can't happen again! It just can't!"

Foyle knew immediately what Sam was referring to and how terrified she must be. She had not called him 'sir' since the first time they had seen each other after she had asked him to be her baby's godfather. They had met for tea one afternoon a week or so later and he had insisted she get in the habit of calling him 'Christopher'.

He remembered the look on her face when he had reasoned, "It wouldn't do to have the child grow up calling me Uncle Sir, now, would it?"

Sam had burst out laughing, but quickly clamped her hand firmly over her mouth as a look of embarrassment overtook her features and other people in the restaurant began to stare at her.

The humor filled memory quickly became bittersweet as he gave her his hand and was stunned by the amount of pressure she applied; her face contorted in another wave of pain. He wasn't entirely sure how he had managed to get a chair under himself; but, he had and he moved it as close as he could to Sam's chair. She had a crushing grip on his hand but he knew whatever pain he felt had to be minimal compared to Sam's agony. He slipped his free arm around her shoulders and tried to give her more support than the chair was providing. Her grip relaxed and she was able to catch her breath just a bit as he told her an ambulance had been summoned. He noticed Susan was standing on the other side of Sam and gave her a questioning glance.

The woman nodded her head vigorously, "Yes, there's one on the way. Anything else I can do?" She asked anxiously.

Foyle felt Sam's grip begin to tighten again and asked, almost too sharply for it to be considered a question, "Some cold water and small towel, please?"

Susan was off just as Sam clamped down on his hand, rather painfully, once more.

Tears began to spill over her lower lids and his heart felt as though it were being clinched as tightly as his hand. He could think of nothing encouraging in that moment so, he opted to simply affirm his presence, "I'm here Sam. I'm here."

Soon there was a flurry of activity. Susan was pushing a bowl of cold water, with a small towel floating in it, at him. Sam had clinched down on his hand again. Two ambulance attendants had materialized, seemingly from nowhere and were trying to move Sam to a stretcher. And Sam was trying to say something to him through the most recent jolt of pain.

Foyle offered Susan a rather absent, "Thank you." as he plucked the small towel from the water and squeezed out the excess as best he could with one hand. The attendants were lifting Sam, but she would not let go of his hand, so he moved with them. As they carried her down the corridor Foyle walked along side, with Sam clutching one hand, he used his free hand to wipe the dampened cloth around her face; swabbing perspiration and tears from her skin.

His focus was completely consumed by Sam and the intensity of the event. Foyle spared no thought for anyone or anything else. He continued to reassure Sam of his presence and that she would soon be in the care of the doctor. It wasn't until they had reached the hospital, and a couple of nurses had pried Sam's hand from his, to assume his position in reassuring her and wiping her face, that he began to think beyond Sam. The first thing he did was to find a phone and try to locate Adam. Three calls later, he had finally reached a hotel clerk who confirmed 'Mr. Wainwright' was indeed in a meeting in their adjoining restaurant and assured he would be given a message 'straight away'. Foyle had no way of knowing the hotel clerk's idea of 'straight away', was as soon as the meeting was over; not a moment before. Foyle watched a doctor emerge from the room Sam was in as he was finishing the call.

The doctor asked if he was family and he answered unequivocally and without hesitation, "Yes. We are family. My name's Foyle"

The report was brief and direct. Sam had lost the baby and would need to remain in hospital, at the very least overnight, probably a couple of days. She had lost a considerable amount of blood and was physically and emotionally exhausted.

Foyle had asked if he could see her and the doctor had replied, unwittingly, "I'm afraid we must keep her visitors to a minimum. However, she keeps calling out for Christopher and it …"

After being so sure he wasn't going to be permitted to see Sam, he almost jumped in surprise when he heard his name. He offered his hand as he interrupted the doctor, "I'm Christopher! Christopher Foyle."

They shook hands as the doctor tried to clarify, "I'm sorry, I thought her name was Wainwright?"

"Correct. Mrs. Samantha Wainwright."

"And, you're Foyle?"

"Yes."

It was obvious to Foyle that the doctor thought he had been misled, even before he spoke. "You said you're family?"

"Family, yes." his assertion clear and firm.

"Not married?" The doctor's face still held a look of suspicious disbelief.

"No, not married. I just left a message for her husband. May I see her now? Please."

The doctor merely stepped aside and Foyle took it as permission. He stepped into the room and quietly made his way to the bed. Sam looked so small, fragile and terribly vulnerable; his chest constricted at the sight of her. Foyle sat with her for several hours. Sam had opened her eyes once, shortly after he had entered her room, as he had placed a chair near her bed. He told her he had called Adam and would stay with her until the younger man arrived. She had thanked him through a constricted cry, as she swiped at her tears with the bed sheet. He had handed her his handkerchief before he reached to hold her hand.

The moment Adam walked into the room Foyle got up to leave. He saw the doctor walk passed the door of Sam's room.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for allowing me to stay with Sam for so long this afternoon. I don't suppose that was strictly according to policy around here."

The doctor offered him a tight smile, "No, it's not, but you're welcome, Mr. Foyle." Then his expression became puzzled. "The two of you are _not_ married?"

"We are not." Foyle returned; his answer succinct but his curiosity was piqued. It was the second time the doctor had asked and the man seemed confused both times. "Why do you ask?"

His expression said the question caught him off guard but the doctor answered immediately, "Uh, because she kept calling for 'Christopher' throughout her ordeal."

Foyle nodded, not sure he could trust his voice right away. With a swallow to ensure his throat was moist, he suggested firmly, "Probably, because she knew I was here. Came in with her actually."

The doctor looked unconvinced, "Could be." He shifted a bit, clearly uncomfortable, and said, "Mr. Foyle I must be off, now. I will check in on Mrs. Wainwright in the morning and give you, er rather, her husband an update. Has he made it in yet?"

"Thank you doctor, we would appreciate that. Yes, Adam is in with her now."

The two men shook hands again and the doctor was off. It didn't even occur to Foyle that the doctor had not spoken to Adam before leaving for the night.

Adam took exception to everything Foyle had done or not done; being with Sam, not calling until after reaching the hospital, failing to ensure Adam got the message immediately, not insisting on speaking to Adam directly, talking with the doctor; requiring Adam to get the doctor's assessment through him. Adam was especially upset that Foyle and Sam had 'been holding hands and whispering' and Foyle had been 'stroking her face' when he entered her room.

Sam had awakened a few times but Foyle had told her Adam was not there yet and encouraged her to rest, sleep if she could. She had awakened again a few minutes ahead of Adam's arrival. That time she had immediately started talking about the baby, in a very brief period of time she was overcome emotionally and started to cry. Foyle continued to hold her hand, spoke reassuring words softly, encouraged her to calm down and cautioned he did want to get kicked out for upsetting her; all while he picked up his handkerchief and dried her tears. She whispered back she would try to stay calm and begged him not to let them make him leave. That was all that was happening the moment Adam walked in; however, the younger man obstinately refused to listen to any of Foyle's explanations about anything.

Following Sam's release from hospital Adam expressed further upset at her insistence at continuing to 'work' and putting the baby at risk. He was angry at the loss of another child but wanted for them to try again right away. Adam was angry about a lot of things and he was taking it all out on Sam instead of supporting her.

Adam directed his ire at Foyle many times as well. The older man did not take the jabs personally. He viewed them as Adam's way to exercise his anger over the loss of the baby. However, Foyle was extremely upset by the younger man's treatment of Sam as though she had not suffered any loss and was to be held at fault.

The breaking point came one evening in November 1947, a few weeks after Sam's hospital stay. Foyle had been invited to dinner. Soon after the meal started Adam had insisted on discussing their trying for more children. It was obvious Sam was terribly uncomfortable with the topic being discussed in front of him and equally obvious Adam was not going to be deterred. Foyle had considered making an excuse to leave but when Adam had raised his voice and would not be dissuaded, he glanced at Sam. The single look told him, embarrassed or not, she needed him to stay. Foyle then suggested he see to the coffee while the couple spoke in private. Although, he was a room away, he still heard the entire conversation. Adam had grown louder when Foyle had left the room and Sam quieter; beseeching her husband to lower his voice since he wouldn't agree to postpone the conversation for later.

They reached the point where Adam demanded to know why she was so adamant about not trying for more children. "Wasn't that what you had always said you wanted? That is until you were forced to choose between having _my_ baby and continuing to work with your _precious_ Mr. Foyle?"

That comment spurred Foyle to movement and he headed for the door that connected the kitchen and the dining room. Only to be frozen by Sam's voice, small but deeply heartfelt as she told her husband; apparently for the first time, that she had not only lost the two most recent babies but had suffered through multiple early term losses the first several months of their marriage. She went on to say that she couldn't just 'try again' as Adam had suggested, because her doctor had said it was unlikely she would ever carry a child to term.

Silence.

The only sounds Foyle heard were the ticking of a nearby clock and the thrumming of his heartbeat as his blood pulsed in his ears. While he debated whether or not to re-enter the room, he heard Adam.

His voice, low, forcibly controlled but with a hint of volatility, "And I suppose _your Mr._ _Foyle_ has known this, for what, months? Just one more thing you've told him before me. Guess I should at least be grateful you told me about the last two pregnancies before you told him. Huh?"

Adam's last words were partially drowned out by the movement of his chair from table and the motion of him heading for the front door. When the reverberation of the slammed door reached his ears, Foyle immediately returned to the dining room to find Sam, still seated at table, with her head down and cradled in her hands.


	2. Prologue 2 of 2

**Prologue part 2 of 2**

See Prologue Part 1 of 2 for Disclaimer, Spoiler and Author's Note

Things had gone from bad to worse rather rapidly and no one, Foyle included, had been able to help the couple. The stress and strain proved too much, they tried a separation thinking space would help but it had not worked. Adam returned home on their second wedding anniversary in January of 1948 but moved into a hotel permanently after only two days home.

They had married in January of 1946 and legally would not be permitted to petition for divorce until they had been married three years; January of 1949. It was coming on to spring 1948 and Sam's life was falling apart around her. Sam had moved out of their house after deciding she did not want to stay in the home they had shared together; even though Adam said he would cover the expenses until they could divorce. She returned to work with Mr. Foyle at the Home Office, and found a small flat to rent.

Sam had a great deal of difficulty coming to terms with the fact she would be divorced. Of primary concern was the worry over what her father and uncles would have to say. It was going to be difficult enough to face the social stigma and judgment of being a divorced woman. However, that paled in comparison to having to live with the disappointment and shame she would bring to her family. Eventually, she came to the decision that moving out was the best way for them to obtain the divorce. Sam felt it was primarily her fault it had come to that final breaking point because she was unwilling to discuss or consider attempting to have more children. Although she knew she had not caused the loss of her pregnancies; she was unwavering in her conviction that she would not try again, certain the results would be the same. That stance, to her way of thinking, betrayed the life plans she and Adam had made. He wasn't happy around her anymore, she could see it even when he didn't say or do anything hurtful; she could still tell. It was up to her to let him free so he could marry and have children with someone else. She knew there were great restrictions on remarrying but thought with Adam being an MP and if she were the one to blame for leaving the marriage, maybe he would be granted permission to remarry. With that thought in mind, Sam was willing to wait out the required 3 years for a desertion charge and carry the weight of the shame associated with being the deserting party.

She made her decision clear to her father when he had come to visit; specifically to talk her into working on her marriage. As soon as she had received word to expect her father, Sam talked with Foyle. He agreed to meet her and her father, Iain, at his hotel for tea soon after his arrival.

Iain had been sorely disappointed in not being able to talk his daughter into changing her mind and working on her marriage. Nor was he at all pleased with Foyle's 'resolutely neutral posture toward Samantha's situation' or his deference to her decisions; essentially, Foyle's failure to take the vicar's side.

Sam continually addressed Foyle as Christopher and her father voice objection to that as well. She tried to explain that Christopher was to have been the baby's godfather and used Foyle's quip: 'It wouldn't do to have the child call him Uncle Sir, would it?'

When her attempt at levity fell flat, Foyle interjected that although that had been the catalyst for the shift to a familiar form of address in personal settings; there was still a formal address employed by both while at work. That seemed to assuage her father's indignation; if only on that singular point.

Sam's Uncle Aubrey, on the other hand, had been more understanding of Sam and Adam's situation and especially accepting of Foyle's stance on the matter. In fact, Foyle had the distinct impression Aubrey's subsequent visit was a perfunctory act to appease his brother's desire to try and curry favor with his daughter by sending her most favored uncle. However his visit came about, it was by far, the more pleasant of the two encounters.

Foyle had asked Sam to return to work with him, after Adam had left and she had moved into her flat. However, he had implemented a strict list of rules for them to follow if she continued working with him. To impress upon Sam just how serious he was about the 'new rules' he had typed them up, made Sam read and sign them; with the understanding that she must absolutely abide by them under threat of being fired if she breached them. He knew how heart wrenching the impending divorce was for Sam and took special pains to ensure there was no possible way the time they spent together, at work or outside of work, could be misconstrued as anything untoward. There was no way he was going to risk causing her more pain or giving Adam any additional legal grounds against her. If the younger man wanted to force the issue of divorce it was not going to be by sullying Sam's reputation with rumor or innuendo.

It took a bit of getting used to for both of them: addressing each other as 'Mr. Foyle' and 'Mrs. Wainwright', keeping the office door open whenever they were in the room together, not standing close to each other, should they need to be looking at the same photo or document, it was to be done from either side of a desk, hardly ever traveled in the car together; on the rare occasion they needed to for business reasons, he made sure they could have their arrival and departure times verified by others. Usually, it was one or the other using the car, Sam for errands, Foyle to meetings or interviews. If they walked anywhere together they kept a significant distance between them at all times. They did have breakfast or tea together once in a while, always in a public place and always arriving and leaving separately. In the rare event they had dinner together it was only with others associated with work. Nothing private, nothing among only friends and nothing that could be, in any way, misconstrued or cause Sam's fidelity to fall under scrutiny. Adam had already made several comments that called the nature of their relationship into question, made, what Foyle considered, veiled threats and references to adultery being appropriate grounds for the divorce petition. He knew it would take more than the younger man simply making unfounded accusations for such a petition to be given leave. However, Foyle was loathed to allow any action on his or Sam's part to aid Adam in pressing for grounds of adultery against Sam.

Foyle was never quite clear on how Adam had arranged for the divorce petition to be submitted ahead of the three year restriction; although, he had suspected it had something to do with the man's connections in government. The divorce was still not given leave or filed officially until the day after their third wedding anniversary. Nonetheless, that was still considerably ahead of the customary time frame allowed by law.

They had finally had acceptable grounds for divorce, ahead of waiting out the three year desertion period, when Adam was 'caught' with another woman and bore the brunt of the scandal. Thus freeing them both from the sad, embittered and abrasive daily pain and torture they endured. Adam had purposely been unabashed in his open pursuit of the lady in question; racking up numerous witnesses and evidence for Sam to prove a charge of adultery to the court.

In addition to the accelerated time frame, Foyle couldn't help but wonder about Adam's hand in the unusual processing of the divorce petition itself. The younger man had notified Sam of his ongoing relationship and informed her he had secured a solicitor for her who would let her know what was needed from her and when. Unorthodox, to say the least, and it set Foyle's suspicions to work.

As ever, it took little for Foyle to get Sam to open up. She was confused and concerned by what was going on with Adam and the divorce. During their discussion over tea one afternoon Foyle was able to deduce that Adam had pulled in favors from a multitude of friends to have their divorce tailored to receive the court's leave and secure an expedited decree. Technically, it would satisfy the letter of the law and, if Adam's sources could execute the petition as planned, it should yield equally binding results. There was a dispensation issued by the court, how Foyle could only guess and didn't want to. It allowed for 'Mrs. Wainwright, upon proof of identity, may submit her testimony and proof of grounds in written form; once completed and validated, she will not be required to present herself to the court'. The dispensation cause given was 'due to the emotional hardship it would place on her following the emotional and physical toll of the loss of two pregnancies in late term within the past year'. Foyle couldn't help but be a bit nervous the more he heard about the way Adam was handling the petition and all the potential points in which it could be called into question. He expressed his concerns to Sam, who had agreed but said she was willing to take the risk. Her reasoning was if it didn't work they would just have to wait; Adam could file a petition against her for desertion, in three years' time, as she had originally planned.

By the middle of February 1949, everything surrounding the divorce was said and done; decree issued and Adam and Sam had parted ways for the last time.

Sam had had so much to do leading up to the divorce; Foyle had tried to get her to take some time off to focus her efforts on her personal matters. When that failed, he had agreed to an assignment in January that would take him out of London for a week; possibly two, he had been told. If Sam would not willing take the time off, Foyle knew he could get her to do so while he was gone and there was nothing for her to help with at the office. His planned worked, with one exception; his one week possibly two, had ended up being nearly month. By the time he returned, Sam's divorce was final and she had cleared out most of her flat in preparation for moving; she gave many items away and boxed the things she wanted to keep.

They were both moving out of London. Foyle had made a few trips back to Hastings, in the weeks prior to his extended assignment, to ready his home for full-time residence again. Sam had asked if he would mind to store a few boxes for her, at his home in Hastings, until she had found a place to live.

Sam had been dreading facing her father and uncles; vicars one and all, save for her uncle the Reverend Bishop Stewart. The Stewart men were gathering for the weekend at her Uncle Aubrey's and Sam had been more summoned than invited by her father. She and Foyle had discussed her apprehension and he suggested she arrange for a visit with Aubrey a few days ahead of the others arriving for the weekend. He felt she would benefit from some one on one time with the man who was so fond of her and had shown genuine sympathy and understanding when they had last met in London. Once her early arrival had been warmly welcomed, Aubrey extended an invitation, through her, inviting Foyle for the weekend as well. Initially, he was reluctant to accept. Then Sam explained it was not a family gathering in the sense of a reunion but rather a sort of family conference regarding her divorce. When she had gone on to say she was sure it would not be as bad as the Inquisition; but, it would certainly feel like. He capitulated and agreed to drive to Aubrey's on Friday and stay the weekend. By the time he had taken Sam to the train on Tuesday, he had already packed and loaded his car with the last of his clothes and the few remaining personal items from his office and hotel room.


	3. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

See Prologue Part 1 of 2 for Disclaimer, Spoiler and Author's Note

Foyle arrived midmorning on Friday; earlier than planned.

The more he had thought about Sam having to face her father and uncles, the more unsettled he became and the less sleeping he did. He didn't know what to expect for her or him. It was Aubrey's home and on his invitation that Foyle would be there but that didn't mean he would be a welcomed addition to the gathering by the other brothers. He finally gave up on sleep all together, dressed, had some toast and tea, placed his suitcase in the car and began his journey. When he reached the vicarage a few hours later he found Aubrey out front with another man. The family resemblance was unmistakable; the man looked to be a younger, dark haired version of Aubrey.

"Ah, Christopher, did you have a pleasant trip?"

"I did. Thank you for the invitation, Aubrey. It is a lovely time of year for the drive."

They shook hands as soon as Foyle reached the brothers.

"My pleasure. You're welcome anytime, you know."

Foyle gave him a half smile and a nod of acknowledgement.

"Allow me to introduce you two." Aubrey said as he glanced from one man to the other. "Christopher, this is my youngest brother, vicar Everett Stewart. Everett, this is Mr. Foyle, Christopher Foyle."

They shook hands and then, in a voice a near echo in tone to his brother's, the younger Stewart said, "Ah, Samantha's Mr. Foyle? It is an honor to meet you, sir."

Trying not to let the surprise of being identified as ' Samantha's Mr. Foyle' show, Foyle responded evenly, "Thank you Reverend Stewart, it is always a pleasure to meet a member of Sam's family. Do call me Christopher."

The other man pumped his hand once more and said with a nod, "Provided you call me Everett." Then turned to include his brother and spoke to both of them, "I assume, he's not yet met Galen?"

Foyle looked at Aubrey and saw the man's smile falter; he was certain there was a story behind that reaction. His attention returned to Everett, "I have not."

With tight smirk and a twinkle of mischief in his eye Everett replied, "Well may I just say, I am glad you and I met while you still consider meeting our lot a pleasure."

It was a statement, not a question. Foyle looked to Aubrey for a translation of Everett's comment.

The older man gave his brother quick glance and then offered, "I think it is fair to say brother Galen is his own man." And then led the way into the house.

Everett hesitated a step or two so he was closer to Foyle than his brother and whispered, "In which case it would also be fair to say brother Galen, thinks all men should be alike. That is like Galen." The look he gave Foyle added clear unspoken caution to his words; be warned.

The three men entered the house and were proceeding to remove and hang their hats and coats when Everett called out, "Samantha, dear. Company!"

There was an instant flurry of sound upstairs and soon footfalls on the stairs, just ahead of the sight of Sam hurrying into the room. Her smile was brilliant and seemed to brighten the spirits of the three men in equal measure.

She impulsively gave Foyle a hug, "You're here! I'm so glad. Welcome!"

He could see the danger of babbling, Sam was about to fall victim to, by the flicker of excitement flashing in her eyes. So, he responded without hesitation, "I'm glad to be here. Thank you." He did his best to hold her eyes as he spoke and hoped she would see the question he did not voice.

"I know you've just taken off your coat. But, would you mind to walk with me?"

"Wouldn't mind at all." Foyle answered smoothly, relieved Sam had caught his question to speak to her alone. He reached for his coat as he continued, addressing her uncles, "Gentlemen, if you will excuse us?"

"Yes."

"Of course."

"Thank you." His overcoat back on, he turned to help Sam into hers; her struggling had caught his eye as he had started to retrieve his hat. "Allow me."

"Thank you." She said over her shoulder to him and then looked past him, "I won't keep him long Uncle Aubrey."

"Very good. Lunch will be served promptly, today."

She stiffened visibly but recovered quickly, "Uncle Galen will be here soon then." It sounded as though it were half question half statement and none too pleasant.

Everett confirmed, "Precisely."

Sam nodded and slipped her arm through Foyle's as he snatched his hat, from the hook, on the way out the door. She wasn't exactly dragging him; but, he wouldn't have called it a walking pace either. Following her lead they quickly moved through the graveyard to the gate path, down the path to the gate and back up along the low stone wall. Only then did Sam slow their pace and release his arm, their walk was decidedly circular. They moved in a large stretched loop; walking the length of the stone wall, moving outward and around, down the other side and around again to return to where they started. Foyle was aware that the path they repeated kept them in view from the house at all times.

He allowed for her to wear down some of her intense energy before asking, "What is it Sam?"

She halted a step but immediately resumed their pacing, "Oh! Everything! I was hoping Uncle Galen wouldn't be here until tomorrow."

"What is it about Galen that has you, all of you, so …" he left the question unfinished but knew Sam knew what he was asking.

"Well to put it briefly, he has strict practices and beliefs. Expects everyone to be a certain way, hounds them into what he thinks they should be like, which is, is ..." she stalled.

"Like him?"

"Yes." She shot him a 'how do you know' look.

He gave her a nonchalant shrug, "Everett."

"I should've guessed." She chuckled and seemed to relax a little. "At least he got here early and I have been able to spend some time with just him and Uncle Aubrey. That has been especially nice." Her wistful tone caught his attention.

"Then you have been having good visit?"

"Oh yes! It's been very fine, until today."

"Thanks." He feigned hurt feelings.

"No! Not you coming today. Uncle Galen and my father, and, well, …"

She stalled again and he suggested, "I interrupted you a moment ago, finish telling me about your Uncle Galen. Please?"

It was obvious Sam was reviewing what she had already told him, "Uh, well, oh yes. He is very particular about punctuality, doesn't compromise on much of anything. He holds strong opinions on things and people and doesn't suffer those who disagree."

When she offered nothing more he asked, "Anything else I should know before I meet him?"

"You know how I've asked you seemingly endless questions in the past?"

"Yes." He couldn't help but smile at the memories.

"His almost never end." She said it so somberly he tried hard not to laugh but the look on her face, as though she was bracing for a bomb to go off, was just too comical to not react.

As soon as he laughed, a flash of indigence crossed her features and she cautioned, "Okay, don't say I didn't warn you!" She punctuated the statement with a huff.

That made it worse and try as he might he could not help but continue to chuckle softly for the next couple of minutes.

She gave him time with his humor and then stopped her pacing to give him a direct and very serious look. "I wish I could laugh with you. But, Uncle Galen, even though he's just a bit older than Uncle Everett, seems to control the brothers. I'm becoming more and more worried for how this weekend will go."

"What do you mean by 'control'?

"He holds a sort of, ah, influence over their opinions. Specifically, decision making. I can't ever remember a time when they have all gotten together over family issues, like this weekend, and made decisions that were not strictly in keeping with what Uncle Galen deemed proper."

He was sure he knew the answer but wanted to be certain, "You said they are getting together this weekend for a 'family issues'. All concerning you?"

She nodded her head in a tight motion, steeling her emotions; just a hint of moisture building in her eyes.

"When you first mentioned this weekend you compared it to the Inquisition." His look held the question his words didn't.

She sighed, "Yeah. I know they have questions that deserve answers but I don't think they are going to like any of my answers. I'm afraid they're going to make unilateral decisions for me and send me off somewhere. Somewhere I don't want to go."

Foyle stopped walking and Sam paced a short line back and forth in front of him.

He felt a sense of panic wave over him, "Where?"

"I don't know. I just know they won't ask me first."

"What are your plans?"

"I don't know. I just know I can't stay in London. Don't want to stay there anymore."

"What do you want?"

"I don't know."

"Sam." His tone caused her to halt her movement and focus on him. He held her gaze, "You've told me what you're afraid of and what you don't want. What _do_ you want?"

She sighed, "I want to go back to Hastings. It feels the most like home of anywhere I've ever lived. I hated when Adam and I left."

"So why don't you move back?"

"I don't know if I'll be able to."

He gave her a questioning look.

She shrugged, "It'll depend on what's decided this weekend."

"By whom?"

"My dad and uncles."

"You know. It would be helpful for me if you were to move back to Hastings."

Her turn to offer a questioning look.

Imitating her earlier shrug he explained, "Thought I would continue on my book."

A slow sweet smile spread across her face, "Thank you."

Foyle responded with a slight dip of his knees and expectant expression, "Pleasure."

A moment later he said, "Sam, this usually goes without saying, but I think you need to hear it today. I will never say anything to anyone about you without your say so. And, if you need help explaining something to someone or just want me there when you do, I will gladly help either way. You do know that, right? Nothing has changed; I have and will always take that approach as far as you are concerned. Understood?"

She gave him a quick nod and small smile, "Yes, I've known that for years. But, you're right; it was nice to be reminded of it, especially today." Sam glanced about and saw a car pulling past the main fence of the vicarage. "We better head in. Uncle Galen is arriving. We shouldn't cause lunch to wait."

As a sign of his support Foyle linked his left arm through Sam's right, "Just remember, I'm here and am willing to help you however I can."

Sam looked at their entwined arms and back to Foyle's eyes, "Uncle Galen won't approve." She cautioned.

"Do you care?" He asked starting to remove his arm.

"Do you?" She asked hopefully.

"No." His answer; typically succinct and honest.

"Okay." She replied in kind.

Foyle looped his arm back through hers and softly reminded, "I'm here."

Sam squeezed his arm to her side, with her elbow quickly, and then immediately relaxed her arm again. "I know. Thank you, Christopher."

The relief, evidenced in her voice, made his chest constrict for a breath or two but he managed to whisper, "You're welcome."

Galen had indeed arrived in the car Sam had spotted; but, so had her father. Foyle felt her tense and miss a step when she saw her father. He quickly adjusted the positioning of their arms to support her as she regained her footing. Once she had righted her course, he looped her arm through his and covered her hand with his, in a quick reassuring gesture, before slipping his hand into his pocket.

Turned out, to Foyle's surprise and relief, as unhappy as Iain was with the state of Sam's marriage and personal life he was still welcoming and cordial to them both.

There was an incident with Sam's Uncle Galen after lunch that set Foyle 'on alert'. The Bishop had tried to push Foyle into disclosing information regarding Sam. Foyle held to his belief that, family or not, it was none of any of the vicars' business until Sam chose to share it with them; her father included.

Foyle had been standing outside, between the house and the garden, chatting with all the vicars when Galen had asked to speak to him a moment in private. Together they had walked to the other side of the garden. Foyle had not been at all rude but had repeatedly declined to reveal the information the man sought.

Her uncle became agitated and demanded of him, "Do you know the answers to my questions or not?"

Foyle replied, "Yes. I know the information."

Galen then insisted, "Mr. Foyle, you _must_ tell me."

Foyle declined again, "I'm sorry Bishop Stewart. I must _not_. You should talk to Samantha about all of this. Now, if you'll excuse me." With a tip of his hat Foyle turned and walked away; effectively ending the interrogation.

When Galen returned to his brothers he huffed in exasperation, "I do not like that man. He cannot be trusted."

Neither Everett nor Iain spoke up in Christopher's defense and Aubrey let loose on Galen but included his other brothers in his rebuke.

"My dear Galen, you may be disappointed with Samantha's situation. Disapprove if you will. I have no doubt you will question it all you want. But, I wish to make very clear to _all_ of you that Mr. Foyle is a decent man of great integrity. He is loyal, fair, just and, above all, honest. I dare say as honest as any of us and more than most. If he has not answered your inquiries regarding Samantha, I have no doubt it is because he believes it to be Samantha's business, not his and he would never betray her confidence, nor would he ever presume to negate her right to say who should or shouldn't know something about her or when they should know it. So, as much as you may find fault in this situation, you will not question the trustworthiness of Christopher Foyle. Not here. Not around me, ever. I will not tolerate any disparaging remarks made against the man," He gave each brother a pointed look, "from any of you. He is a good man and a good friend." He looked at Iain as he finished, as if to ask if he agreed.

Iain concurred, albeit in a greatly reserved manner, "Aubrey is quite correct, Mr. Foyle has always done right by Samantha. Looked after her, protected her and has been a good friend to her. I do not believe we should insult him by ever doubting that. And I find it an unfair burden for him to think we would expect he should disregard his loyalty to her for our sakes."

Galen glanced at his brothers and then began to dismissively shake his head just before he turned and walked away from them.

Everett chose that moment to pose a question he had been mulling for a while, "Do you think Christopher loves Samantha?"

Iain took the question as though it were inconsequential, "I should think he cares for her, yes. As I said he has always been a good friend her."

"No. I meant _in_ love with her."

Iain looked completely stunned by the question; as though he had never given it any consideration before, which he in fact had not. "Well, I, uh, …"

Aubrey jumped in and seized the opportunity to possibly sway Iain into thinking for himself on the matter, holding his tone as impassively as he possibly could he offered, " _If_ he were. _Whose_ business would that be?"

Everett nodded, and the look in his eye told Aubrey he agreed and felt the same about the possibility. He had taken an instant liking to Samantha's Mr. Foyle. The man's confidence, easy manner, deference to Sam and respect to all the brothers; even in times he didn't agree with them; caused Everett to place Christopher in high regard. He thought Foyle to be exactly as Aubrey and Iain had described. Although, he happened to also think Christopher's feelings were deeper than the man would care to admit. Aubrey's words came back to him, '... above all honest.' Maybe it was time he had a private chat with Christopher.

That evening Sam, Iain and Galen were in the kitchen preparing for dinner while Aubrey and Foyle were sitting at a game of chess; but, spending more time discussing an early morning fishing trip. Everett entered the room and on overhearing their ideas regarding fishing, asked if he might join them. There were no objections; but, when Aubrey inquired as to whether they should invite the others, Everett voiced his own objection. He said he would appreciate the opportunity for three of them to have a chat alone. The other two easily acquiesced and the trio finalized their early morning plans.

Although Aubrey the oldest and Everett the youngest, Foyle thought them quite similar; the most alike and amiable of all the brothers. He anticipated an enjoyable morning in the company of the two men.


	4. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

See Prologue Part 1 of 2 for Disclaimer, Spoiler and Author's Note

Early Saturday Morning

"Christopher, I am confident I may speak for brother Aubrey as well, as myself, when I say we each hold you in high regard; both as a man and as Samantha's friend. I should add as Aubrey's friend as well."

Foyle instinctively braced for the bomb the drop, "Thank you."

"Now, I find this to be a bit difficult to verbalize, without it sounding accusatory or judgmental in some way. Please know neither are my intent. There is nothing tangible, no singular moment I can pinpoint, and I must say, if I am at all wrong, I am sorry for ever even mentioning it."

It was apparent the man was trying hard to put him at ease; but, Foyle was growing more apprehensive the longer the man went on trying to soften whatever it was he had wanted to say. Foyle hoped the conversation would come to its conclusion soon; his nerves couldn't take much more and they would be at their fishing destination in a short while.

Playing a hunch, Foyle offered, "Everett, I have every reason to believe you," with a glance to their companion he added, "and Aubrey, only have Sam's best interest at heart. Please, tell me what it is that is bothering you."

"The only bother, Christopher, is the concern of offending you."

"Understood. You mean no offense and you are making no accusation." He gave him a nod and then looked away hoping it would hasten the man's statement if he weren't feeling scrutinized.

Everett resumed strong but soon became hesitant in his delivery, "Right. Good. It is just that I, uh we, think there is a strong possibility that your, uh, feelings, for Samantha, are uh, deeper, than those of a mere friend."

Foyle halted and stared at Everett but said nothing.

Sam's youngest uncle, likely only a couple of years older than Foyle himself, quickly added, "I, we, are not posing a question, and we are not asking for an answer." He stole a glance at his brother.

Aubrey tried to help as he hastily offered, "We are equally sure of Samantha's feelings for you being deeper than those for a friend."

That was enough reinforcement for Everett to continue with a level of confidence he had previously lacked in broaching the subject, "Whether or not either, or both, of you have ever voiced such feelings, or may in future, is no one's business but your own. Neither Aubrey nor I have ever nor will ever speak to anyone, beyond you this morning, about our belief of potential deeper feelings between you and Samantha. It is none of our business, beyond saying whatever the two of you may choose; you will both continue to have our respect and support.

To call him stunned would have been an understatement. Foyle's gaze drifted from one brother, to the other, and back again. He wasn't at all sure what to make of the entire situation: conversation, attitudes, and most especially the revelation that they thought Sam had behaved in a way to make her uncles think her feelings for him went beyond friendship. His eyes drifted once again from one man to the other, his mind pinging off one confusing thought to another.

Aubrey broke through Foyle's rumination, just slightly, with the innocuous comment, "We're nearly there. Shall we get about our fishing? Too lovely and quiet a morning to waste."

"Indeed." agreed Everett without a pause between their words.

Foyle trod along behind them, his eyes barely focused on the two men ahead of him, as his mind flooded with questions.

Once they reached their fishing spot, each man set up in his own area, in silent communion with nature. It wasn't long before the fish began to bite and Foyle's focus was drawn fully to the task of netting a catch. In the process his line tangled and required him to step to the bank and retrieve a knife and another fly. While he worked to reset his split cane for continued use he heard someone clear their throat. Turning to look over his shoulder he saw Aubrey standing a short distance off. As soon as they made eye contact the older man closed most of the space between them.

His voice was low and gentle, "Christopher, I do hope Everett and I have not overstepped the bounds of our friendship. I am most certain that you are not a man who appreciates his private life being the point of speculation. Neither Everett nor I are trying, in any way, to tell you what you should or should not do. And we certainly do not wish to cause you any undue concern or embarrassment. We just want to be sure you know he and I approve; should you and Samantha ever decide there is more between the two of you than your friendship."

Foyle nodded and managed a quiet, "Thank you, Aubrey. I appreciate your candor and discretion."

Suddenly, there was something else for Foyle to ponder, why had he mentioned 'discretion'? Did that imply they were right; had he just confirmed their suspicions? How could he confirm anything when he was not sure of a single thing at that very moment?

Aubrey clasped his shoulder and gave him a warm smile, "You are most welcome, Christopher. Always."

Foyle gave him an acknowledging, although juddering, nod and Aubrey turned to return to his area for another go at the fish.

Foyle's body went through the motions and he ended up with an additional five fish in his creel. He had no idea how many fish his companions had caught. In truth he wasn't even sure how he had managed to catch as many as he had; didn't even remember netting more than three of his catch. There would be plenty of fish for all at breakfast that day and a good bit more for Aubrey's larder. Foyle was pleased with that but otherwise his mind was decidedly unsettled.

Foyle had spent the entire time fishing completely focused on whether his feelings for Sam were as the two men had surmised. After they had collected all their gear, but before they began the walk back to the vicarage, Foyle broke the silence of the trio, "I do not know the depths of my feelings for Sam. That has never been anything I have ever considered. She's been my driver, assistant and trusted friend for nearly nine years. The nature of our working relationship has changed and our friendship has grown. But, none of that has ever been cause for me to question or analyze my feelings for her. We have never had occasion to discuss the nature of our relationship; beyond expressing our mutual sense of family. Never has anything more come into question. You'll forgive me if I am unable to give you any additional answer, at present."

"Christopher we were not expecting _any_ answer. Everett and I simply wanted you to know if there were ever a change, ah, time, when you and Samantha were 'closer' we would not waiver in our opinion of you or our support for the two of you.

"You owe us no explanation, Christopher. It was never my intention to try and illicit any information from you."

"No, no, I understand Everett. Just been working on sorting it all out for myself. Thought it only fair the two of know what I know, eeeerrrrr, rather, what I don't know. Yet." Foyle shrugged as apology; still looking and feeling very confused.

Everett placed a hand on Foyle's shoulder, "Don't let it bother you. Should that time ever come, you'll know."

"Thank you. It isn't bothering me as if it's a worry, just aaaa persistent unknown. I think I should know."

"We understand. And, if you want to talk about it we will listen without judgement or any attempt to influence." Everett said as he handed Foyle his rod to carry and picked up Foyle's creel to balance the other two he had on one shoulder.

The three men walked abreast of each other in silence for a several minutes.

Foyle started to speak in a soft tone, as though he may have simply been thinking aloud and wasn't really aware he was sharing his thoughts, "We have been through a lot working together; survived the war together. I care about Sam and it pains me to see her hurt."

The brothers exchanged a quick glance to confirm they both were hearing him.

His pace continued, thoughtfully, but not haltingly so, "Her accomplishments foster a strong sense of pride for me; because I know her and how she gives her best to everything she does. Worries me to think of her being alone; lonely." Foyle stopped talking and in a couple more steps stopped walking as well; his focus turned down to the path.

Both Stewarts turned back to face him. Foyle looked up and made eye contact with each, in turn, before explaining the clearest part of his reflections, "Sam has been such a prominent part of my life for the better part of eight years, almost nine. I'm not sure what my life would be like without her in it. But, I am most certain; I don't _ever_ want to find out."

Each of the men nodded; a silent consensus among them. They resumed their walk to the vicarage in silence.

As they reached the low wall of the graveyard Aubrey paused and his companions followed suit. "Christopher, may I suggest you and Samantha take a nice, long, walk together after breakfast? Maybe back along the path here. Or down the sway, well beyond Parkin's orchard." He looked at the younger man for acknowledgment of understanding.

When Foyle gave a slow, short deliberate nod, Everett added, "Aubrey and I will keep Galen and Iain occupied until tea."

Another nod from Foyle and the trio continued toward the house.

As they reached the back door, Everett set the three creels on the garden table and flipped each one open. Aubrey continued inside while Foyle and Everett reviewed the catch in total. Aubrey returned with a stack of newspaper, an apron and a small wooden box. He quickly set about covering the work table with the papers; the other two men lifting creels and helping to spread the papers. That part of the job soon dispatched, Aubrey set the box on the table and opened it; revealing a fine set of fish knives nestled in a cut to fit oak tray.

Foyle picked up Aubrey's apron and slipped it on, "I'll clean them."

Aubrey and Everett started speaking at once; their protests overlapping each other.

"You already caught more than the two of us combined." "It's too big a job for one person." "Christopher, you are our guest." "Really, it's not necessary."

Sam heard the friendly commotion from the kitchen.

"I appreciate being an invited guest but I refuse to be waited on around here while everyone else pitches in. Aubrey do you have an objection to my using your set? It's obviously of fine quality and I would certainly understand if you did."

"No. Not at all Christopher, I am sure you would treat them well."

"I will." With that he pulled a fish from the nearest creel and set to work. "Have you a bucket handy, or is there another ..."

Aubrey stepped away, "Yes, a bucket. Be right back."

Foyle looked to Everett and said very quietly, "I believe the two of you agreed to relieve me after breakfast this morning. The least I can do is help to get the meal together." He held the other man's eyes with an expectant expression.

Everett whispered back "Oh, yes! Right." then raised his voice to his usual volume. "I think I'll see what Samantha is doing. Maybe she can lend you a hand."

Aubrey returned with a bucket and set it down just at Foyle was ready to deposit the first of the entrails.

Everett continued, "And that will free Aubrey and me to start the rest of the breakfast preparations."

Aubrey picked on the subtle hint in his brother's words and fell in quickly, "Very good idea. I am quite hungry this morning."

The two men turned toward the house as Sam stepped out tying an apron behind her back. "I see you three have had quite the success this morning."

Everett stepped back to the table with her, "It is mostly Christopher's success, my dear. Look here." He tilted Foyle's creel for her to see. "Not only did he catch more than Aubrey _and_ me," pulling two fish out, he held them up to display, "he caught the two largest of the day."

He placed the fish back in the creel and leaned to whisper to his niece, "Samantha darling, do trust me and stay close to Christopher this morning, eh?" With a wink he straightened and said louder, "Thank you for this Samantha. You know I really am fonder of catching, cooking and eating fish; not cleaning them."

She played along very convincingly, "Yes, I know that very well Uncle Everett. Just as I know I owe you a fish cleaning from my last visit to see you." She brushed a light kiss on his cheek, and whispered, "Thank you."

Foyle was finishing his second fish when Sam fell in next to him and plucked a fish from one of the creels. They seamlessly adapted their approach to a more assembly-line style; expediting the task at hand. As they worked together the pair chatted in soft tones. Foyle explained that Everett and Aubrey had offered to keep Iain and Galen busy after breakfast and asked her to take a walk with him. When Sam readily agreed, he went on to say his chat with Aubrey and Everett that morning was enlightening and he had some important things he wanted to discuss with her. In very little time they had finished cleaning all of the fish, had the creels cleaned and set to air out and Sam had retrieved a pan for breakfast cooking and a set of containers for the extra fish to be stored in Aubrey's larder.

When the assembled group were close to finishing breakfast Aubrey suggested, "Christopher why don't you take Samantha back to where we were fishing this morning? Samantha, dear, you must show Christopher the nest we found the other day; it completely slipped my mind this morning."

Confusion flit across her face but was immediately replaced by a bright expression and matching smile, "Oh yes, the nest. I do hope it's still there."

When Iain and Galen looked between Sam and Aubrey questioningly, Everett interjected before Galen could start with his questions, "We found the strangest little nest, built rather awkwardly along the water's edge. Seemed impossible it could hold together, let alone stay stationery in the soggy water rim."

Aubrey and Sam gave Everett quick looks of gratitude and relief before finding other things to be interested in. At which point, Foyle was certain, in observing the all too rapid nonverbal communication between the three that there never had been a nest. He was further entertained by the fact that neither Galen nor Iain had caught on to the phony excuse. For a brief moment he thought he may have been wrong when Galen announced he would join them.

Aubrey quickly stopped him as he offered in a sweet tone; ideal for masking his mirth at besting Galen, "But brother dear, you are on clean up. Christopher and Samantha cleaned the fish and set table and Everett and I cooked breakfast."

"That's right! So you and Iain have clean up." Everett added cheerily as he picked up a small stack of dishes and headed for the kitchen, "Here, I'll even help get you two started. Then, I intend to trounce brother Aubrey at chess."


	5. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

See Prologue Part 1 of 2 for Disclaimer, Spoiler and Author's Note

Foyle and Sam had stealthily slipped away while Everett and Aubrey were distracting Galen and Iain.

Once they were out of earshot of Aubrey's yard, Foyle began their discussion with a direct, strictly business, "How do you want to handle the 'inquisition?"

Sam replied in a tone that clearly conveyed her frustration with the situation, "I don't know. Because, I don't know how it's going to go."

He stopped and waited for Sam to face him and then asked pointedly, "Is there _anything_ , at all, that you do not want them to know?"

Sam was surprised by the question, "No. Is there something you think I shouldn't tell them?"

"No. But, it isn't my decision Sam, it's yours. And if there's anything you don't want shared with them that's your business. I just don't want to say something you don't want shared."

She nodded her understanding but her expression showed the strain of worry.

He held her eyes, "What?"

"You sound like you know it's going to be bad."

"I know no such thing. Don't know of any other way for us to prepare for this particular unknown." When she bobbed her head slightly, he continued, "If it should come to it, would you be alright with my speaking for you?"

Relief brightened her face and flooded her voice, "I was afraid to ask. I'm so scared I'll, I don't know, panic, get flustered, or _something_ and I won't be able to make myself understood."

"Don't worry Sam, I'll be there. I'll stay out of it, as long as you are handling everything alright. But, if need be, I'll step in. I promise."

"Thank you." The hint of a smile drew the corner of her mouth back.

"Not at all. Wouldn't have it any other way."

They resumed walking toward Aubrey's preferred fishing spot. Neither said anything more until they reached their destination. As they approached the water Foyle began to veer toward the area where he had fished earlier that morning.

Sam reached over and lightly tugged at his sleeve, "This way." She said as she turned in the opposite direction.

Around a curve, along the edge of the water way, there was a small clearing which jutted into the woods lining the path beside the water. The space was highlighted by rays of sunlight filtering through the tree branches. When they passed the apex of the curve in the path, Foyle saw there was a bench placed to face the water. A stump sat low between the bench and the view of the water; it evidenced years of use as a makeshift table. The top surface was rubbed smooth and patterned with random splotches of discolored stains. When they sat on the handcrafted bench Foyle noted the scuffs and nicks at the base of the stump where many shoes had rested over the years. He set his feet against the old wood as he reclined into the corner of the bench. Sam followed suit and settled comfortably on the bench next to him.

Foyle tipped his hat back on his head, so they could see each other as they talked. "Sam, I'd like to tell you something that was told to me this morning." He paused to be sure he had her attention and gave her a questioning look.

She returned his gaze with a small smile, "Okay."

"First, you need to understand I am not asking you a question nor am I making, uh, comment of any kind." He drew one corner of his mouth inward and pinched at it with his teeth as he rolled his eyes and let out a short chuckling sigh.

Sam watched him and when he repeated the little noise and then asked, "Something funny?"

A squeaky clicking noise escaped him as he released his drawn lips. Foyle raised his eyes and eyebrows in unison as he gave his head a little tilt to one side and looked at her, "Just realized why it was difficult to say it to me earlier."

Sam waited patiently as he repositioned to sit straighter and turn more toward her. He nervously adjusted his hat a few times before putting it back just as it had been before he started moving it.

Foyle took a deep breath, "Remember, I'm not asking a question. I'm merely restating an observation that was shared with me. The observation was that, your feelings for me may be more than those for a friend."

The expression on Sam's face made him think his had been much the same earlier. She started to stammer and he reached out and placed his hand on hers. "It wasn't a question, Sam. Just needed you to be aware of that observation before I told you the other one."

Her hand twitched under his and her eyes widen as if bracing herself for hearing more.

Foyle gave her hand a gentle squeeze, "The observer had first said to me that he thought there was a strong possibility that my feelings for you are 'deeper than those of a mere friend'."

Sam breathed, "Uncle Everett."

Foyle narrowed his gaze a bit, "He say something to you?"

Her matter of fact tone showed how confident she was in her deduction, "No. You went fishing with him and Uncle Aubrey. And while they both may have thought it; Uncle Everett is _far_ more likely to say something."

His lips pushed together tightly and a small clicking sound emanated from them just before he agreed, "Right."

"Christopher, I am so sorry my unc…"

His tone was calm authority as he cut her off, "No, Sam. Don't. You owe me no apology."

When she dropped her eyes from his he reflexively squeezed her hand, "Sam, look at me."

He waited while she collected herself and did as he asked.

Once her eyes found his again he continued, "I am not upset, or offended, or embarrassed, or anything else you may fear."

The hand that covered hers shifted to cradle her hand instead.

"I was surprised, uh, ssshhhhocked really, when Everett said it this morning. But, I realized that was mostly because I had never analyzed our relationship or thought about my feelings toward you. I just felt them."

Foyle held her eyes and let her read him; she had always had a talent for it. The present moment required him to exercise great restraint in holding still under her gaze as her eyes drifted back and forth across his features for a moment or two.

When she understood she tilted her head to one side, "Aaaand this morning you have."

It wasn't a question but he nodded slowly to confirm she had read him correctly.

Sam looked down at their hands; he squeezed gently and she returned his squeeze in equal measure. Her eyes drifted back to his and her questioning expression received a short nod.

Sensing he was open to discussing the subject, Sam began slowly, "I thought I loved Adam. Well, I did love Adam. But, I was never in love with him. If anyone had asked me about you, up until this last month or so, I would have easily said, 'I consider you to be family and care about what happens to you'. She looked at him to see if he was following her.

He nodded in agreement, "Yeah. I told Aubrey and Everett the same about you this morning."

"Since the divorce, I have been doing a lot of thinking about a lot of things. Even things I didn't particularly want, or feel I needed to think about. Many times, I caught myself thinking about you; sometimes just idly wondering what you were doing, wishing we were together. I missed you. And it got worse the longer we were apart. It didn't matter that I tried not to think that way. I felt that way and couldn't change that. Then I realized I didn't want to change it. We spent so much time together in the days before I got on the train. That Tuesday I discovered I was dealing with a terrible heartache leaving you behind to come here."

He gave her small smirk, "I felt a similar loss; didn't think of it in that way, until just now, but that is quite accurate."

"What are we going to do?"

"Take each part as it comes, we'll face it together; all of it. The 'inquisition' first, and then, we'll see what's next."

"I hate to sound naive, but would you say, based on what we've each said that we're _in love_ with each other? I mean, we've known each other so long it just seems so…"

Foyle supplied when she couldn't think of a word for it, "Strange?"

Sam laughed, "Strange? Yeah, _very strange_. Like suddenly finding something amongst your stuff you didn't know you had.

He chuckled at her incredulous expression and description, "Yep, I think that's exactly what it feels like. Finding something you hadn't realized you wanted."

"Yeah."

With a light squeeze of her hand he drew her eyes back to his, "Something else I said to Aubrey and Everett this morning. Can't imagine my life without you in it, Sam. Realized this morning; I don't want to experience that possibility either."

They looked at each other for a moment, their ability to silently communicate reinforcing their agreement in that thought.

Foyle thought it best to voice any concern either of them had before trying to categorize what their friendship was becoming. He knew they would not be able to address all possible concerns at the moment; but, at least each would be aware of what concerned the other and have time to think about those concerns. To start the conversation he brought up his greatest concern; their age difference.

Sam asked simply, "Does that have to be a problem?"

"It may become a problem. So, it's something we need to be mindful of."

"Okay." Sam accepted and offered, "What if I am not granted the freedom to remarry by the church?"

"That will be something we'll have to work through, as soon as we know, if that will be case."

Her tone held a clear note of apology, "You do understand that is a very strong possibility?"

"I do." Foyle reinforced his words with a firm single nod.

When she remained silent and her expression said she was doubtful; he explained his perspective on the matter, "Sam, I've been without a wife for 17 years; but, I've not been without a companion for the last half of that time. If that is all that is afford us; we can, at the very least, continue as we were before."

"That is the most likely result. Especially, with Uncle Galen being involved with the decision."

"Right. You know, Aubrey and Everett made their approval very clear this morning. What do you think your father will have to say?"

Sam let out a heavy sigh, "I don't know. If it was just him, Uncle Aubrey and Uncle Everett, it might be alright, but with Uncle Galen." Sam shrugged in frustration' a motion he recognized very well.

"The 'family decision' aside. As your father, what do you think his opinion may be?"

"About us?"

"Yes."

"I can't be certain. I know that he admires and respects you. So, that's good. Beyond that, I really don't know."

Foyle worried the inside of his cheek a moment and then said, "Alright. Do you think we should try to talk to him before the meeting?"

"Maybe. I really don't know if it would make it better or worse, it's always hard to know what he'll think about anything."

"How about if we see if we can find an opening to chat with him alone? Just talk with him and see if we can gauge his reaction."

"Yes, good." She released another heavy sigh. Concern laced her words as she anxiously asked, "Can we at least agree, right now, that no matter what happens, we stay friends?"

"Agreed. Dear friends, Sam," he gave her a wink, "for life."

They returned well ahead of tea and Foyle suggested Sam go upstairs and rest; since she had mentioned on the walk back that she had not slept well the night before. A few minutes after she went up to her room, Iain came down and found Foyle in Aubrey's small library; looking over the books in search of an afternoon read.

"Mr. Foyle, I wonder if I might have a word?"

"Certainly. One request?"

The elder man tensed visibly before inquiring, "What would that be?"

"Call me Christopher?"

Sam's father smiled tightly, "Yes, I suppose that is more appropriate." He extended his hand, "Iain."

As Foyle shook his hand in return a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, "Thank you, Iain."

The vicar gave him short nod and small smile of acknowledgement before he stepped over and closed the door of the little reading room.

"Christopher, I don't know if you are aware of the purpose of this weekend."

Foyle nodded and Sam's father quit speaking to give him a questioning look, "Sam told me there's to be a meeting about her situation and some decisions are to be made."

"Yes. It is not an easy matter. And, the meeting will likely be _very_ personal. I am sure you understand it is rather a difficult situation for the family. I am also quite sure that you will agree it is probably for the best that you not attend."

"The meeting?"

"Yes."

"Well you are correct. I understand it is a family matter," Iain visibly relaxed at Foyle's concession, "However, you are also incorrect. You see, I do not agree 'it is for the best' that I not attend." He watched as the vicar's eyes narrowed on him and the man's breathing became slow and deep. "It is a family matter and since I consider Sam to be family. I have already promised her; I _will_ be there." Foyle had kept his tone friendly and even throughout, but there was no mistaking his firm resolve to keep his promise to Sam.

Iain stiffened and said flatly, "So, Everett was correct."

Foyle was caught unaware, "Beg your pardon?"

"Ah, yesterday. Everett asked if I thought you were in love with Samantha."

A flash of distrust passed through Foyle. Everett had said he had not and would not discuss the subject with anyone. The detective in him came to the forefront, "Did he?" Foyle held the other man's gaze awaiting an answer.

"Yes. Well actually, no. What he asked was 'Do you think Christopher loves Samantha?' I told him I thought you care for Samantha and have always been kind to her. Then he said, 'No', he meant 'in love with her'."

Iain had not looked away while recalling the exchange and Foyle instinctively knew to probe gently, "Is that all he said?"

The older man broke eye contact for a moment but looked back at him when he answered, "Yes. But, Aubrey asked 'Whose business would it be' if you were?"

Foyle braced himself inwardly; but, projected a calm steady challenge in his outward appearance. He held the older man's gaze, "And?"

One corner of Iain's mouth twitched upward slightly and he spoke slowly and deliberately, "And, that gave me some very important thinking to do."

Foyle shifted to a questioning look but didn't ask 'And?' again.

Admiration shown in Iain's eyes and his emerging smile. Foyle's bearing and willingness to face the answers straight on, reinforced his opinion of the man. He stated simply, "It would be your business and Samantha's. The only thing that has ever mattered to me is that Samantha is safe and truly cared for. If it is true, I am certain you would continue your efforts to keep her safe and care for her."

Foyle had begun to relax as he watched Iain's expression change and soften. By the time Sam's father finished speaking; he realized he had just indirectly been given her father's blessing. Christopher extended his hand to Sam's father and said sincerely, "I will. You have my promise of that Iain."


	6. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

See Prologue Part 1 of 2 for Disclaimer, Spoiler and Author's Note

That evening the 'meeting' was convened and Foyle entered with Sam. He was welcomed warmly by Aubrey and Everett, politely by Iain, and with cool reserve by Galen. They had moved one of the sitting room's wingback chairs closer to the couch and set the other across from the couch and matched chair. Aubrey, Iain, and Everett were seated on the couch, Galen in the chair next to it; leaving Sam to occupy the single chair facing them. Foyle sat off to one side of the room and stayed quiet; but, from the start of the so called discussion he carefully studied Sam's reactions.

As the tone of conversation shifted and Galen began to commandeer the questioning; Foyle watched Sam try to hide her cringes when her uncle spoke and maintain her composure when she answered. She forced herself into a straighter posture, blinked her eyes, attempting to clear the excess moisture, and swallowed nervously several times. Foyle knew when Sam was reaching her limits and interjected himself into the group at that point. Without saying a word he got up, quietly walked over and purposely sat on the arm of Sam's chair; effectively placing himself between her and Galen. He causally handed her his handkerchief, without looking at her; knowing if he did either of them was apt to lose their composure completely. There was no doubt in his mind that Sam was fighting to keep from crying and he was on the verge of losing his temper with Galen; in a rather forceful manner.

When Galen attempted to intimidate him with a piercing stare; Foyle became a perfect model of polite reserve, "If you would be so kind, _I_ have a few questions."

He waited; the picture of an utterly calm and patient man. The longer he waited the more he actually became what he had presented. After several long moments he stole a glance down at Sam. With a shift of his eyes he sought her permission to continue. She gave him an almost imperceptible nod; but it was enough for him to clearly know she had conveyed her consent.

"Well, what _is it_ Mr. Foyle?" The bishop asked, with no attempt to hide his irritation.

With Sam's approval to reinforce him, Foyle forged ahead in an understated manner that belied his disappointment and simmering anger with the overbearing reverend.

In a calm voice and even tone, he began, "Bishop Stewart, why are you interrogating Sam? Aren't you interested in what she has been through? I don't mean some passing curiosity for what's happened or a simple desire for only facts. Nothing so devoid of emotion. Aren't you interested in _your niece_ ; her experiences and the impact they've had on her? Doesn't _Sam_ matter, at all?"

Galen continued to stare at him, making no effort to respond.

Foyle opted for another tack and proceeded to quiz the Stewart men about whether they had ever been married or known an abiding love; and whether they had ever lost that love. He explained how profoundly the loss of his wife had impacted him; said some years back someone, _he didn't say it was Sam_ , had asked him how long since his wife had died, and when he'd answered '9 years' they had commented it was a very long time; but, for him it was not such a long time. In many ways her loss at that time was as fresh as waking alone, only to find she was gone.

"It's 17 years now. And the loss of Rosalind; well, it usually just triggers lovely memories. But, there are times it is so emotionally profound it leaves me feeling as though I've been set adrift, alone, all over again. Can you understand that?"

The three men on the couch replied together with: a nod, "Yes.", and "I think so."

Foyle went on, ambivalent to Galen's reticence, "Have any of you lost a child?"

A unanimous "No." all around, except for Galen who remained unresponsive and purposely distant.

"Thankfully, I have not either. There were a couple of close calls with my son during his time with the RAF and that gave me enough of a taste that I am not sure how well I could bear such a loss." He admitted.

Foyle dropped his arm from his lap and drifted his fingers along Sam's arm; she shifted slightly and took hold of his hand. With a gentle squeeze he silently warned her he was about to share her most personal, emotional and painful losses, "Sam had to face that agony _several_ times during the course of her marriage. Suffering most of those losses completely alone. I bore witness to the last two. She experienced a depth of anguish one cannot possibly imagine without experiencing or at the very least witnessing. Her heart was shattered."

His voice trembled as he remembered the intense physical and emotional pain she had endured and he gripped her hand a little tighter; as a means of comforting them both.

"Following the loss of her last child she was faced with the additional sorrow of learning she will likely never be able to carry a child to term. That was followed by the heartbreak of her husband leaving her for a woman who could give him children."

Foyle appraised his audience. Aubrey and Everett were obviously moved, but did not appear to be completely surprised by the revelation. Iain was surprised and visibly distressed by the news. He had no doubt this was the first Sam's father was hearing of any of the earlier miscarriages. When his gaze fell to Galen, the man was inscrutable; that alone irritated Foyle. The shear lack of emotion for one of his own family members gave Foyle an uneasy insight into the man.

However, he held his ire in check as he began directing his next comments to Galen alone, "Now you want to add more pain and assign punishment to Sam? Aren't you, her family, the ones who are supposed to love and protect her?"

Foyle's anger spiked at the thought; so, he purposely slowed his statements and lowered his voice; to regain control over his emotions and not compromise the point he was making.

He spoke in even, measured tones, "Instead it seems you'd rather knock her down and heap more heartache on her. To what end? Why must she be ostracized and banished? Condemned for things that were beyond her control; when she has done _nothing_ wrong."

The only betrayal to his anger Foyle exhibited was when he held his gaze on Galen; utterly still and steely cold.

Galen spoke impassively as though reading from a list of charges, "She brought the petition of divorce."

Foyle's body tensed as though he would move; Sam squeezed his hand gently and he leaned back against the edge of the wingback.

With a quick glance at Sam and more self-restraint than he thought he could possibly possess, he slowly and quietly said, "Only because Adam tried to spare her being charged with grounds. Misguided though he may have been. He was trying to be kind and spare Sam public ridicule and shame."

The calmer and quieter Foyle got the tenser and louder Galen became, almost as though he believed such behavior served to prove him right, "What grounds; if she has done nothing wrong?" he challenged.

Again Foyle spoke slowly and quietly; reading the other man and gaining an inner sense of victory with each exchange, "Adam insisted on the divorce, to the exclusion of all possible options Sam could think to offer. He. Left. Her. But, because she couldn't bear to stay in a house full of hurtful memories; she moved out too. At that point he changed his hotel registration and set the date a week later, so it would match. That was to serve as the start of the period for Sam's desertion." Foyle gave the other man a look as if to ask if he was following along alright. Then he stole a look across to the faces of the other men in the room. Everett and Aubrey each looked as if they would like to cheer and Iain was closely scrutinizing Foyle in return. He tilted his head slightly and gave Iain a questioning look. Twice he glanced to Galen and back to Iain; each time with a bit stronger expression of question. The third time, Iain nodded his head slowly and Foyle returned a short firm nod in acknowledgement. The brother on either side put a hand on Iain's shoulder in a show of support for him and, Foyle assumed, unity in what the nodding gesture had meant.

He gave each a quick look and brief nod, as he squeezed Sam's hand, briefly, once again and then faced Galen, "Bishop Stewart, I can fully understand the intense personal feelings that could be generated by the concerns of a man of your position; charged to set and maintain a moral ideal for your parishioners. But, I do not understand how that moral ideal could justify an arbitrary condemnation of an innocent party simply for the sake of maintaining an example."

Foyle looked at Sam, to make sure he wasn't saying anything she took exception too. Her reassuring, albeit fleeting, smile gave him all the inspiration he required to continue before Galen could speak.

"Not only is Sam family, she's an adult. You cannot send her to some far off town as though she were a naughty little girl in need of punishment. You won't send her off that way, because I will not allow you to." He shot a look across the coffee table, as if to ask 'right?' and three voices replied in unison.

"Christopher is correct." "We can't, Galen." "He's not the only one."

Galen stiffened in his chair and leveled a gaze on his brothers; one by one.

Everett found his voice first, before his brother's eyes fell on him. "Galen, Samantha's divorce can only be a poor reflection, on any of us, if we allow it to be by handling it improperly."

The eyes fell to his and the gaze locked on him but Everett didn't flinch; he simply glared back.

"You think condoning the actions of divorcing and living in sin is the proper way to handle it? That will reflect well on us, will it?"

The three men on the couch were taken aback and scrambled to think of how they wished to verbalize their confusion. Foyle faced no such challenge, he fell into full detective mode and leveled his own gaze on Galen, "To whom were you referring when you said 'living in sin'?"

Foyle's look both dared the man to and cautioned him against naming Sam.

Galen shrank slightly, "Well her husband for one."

"Ex-husband. And none of us knows that to be the case."

"You, yourself, said he left Samantha for a woman who could give him children."

Foyle answered in a casual manner, "I did. I did not say they were _actively pursuing_ the creation of those children."

It was obvious Galen resented Foyle's blithe tone and barely veiled innuendo; he snapped, "Mr. Foyle!"

When he said nothing further Foyle offered, "Bishop?"

When he heard Sam's stifled grunt; in an attempt to keep from laughing, he had to do his best not to smile. Foyle bit on the inner side of his lips and cheek while he waited out the man seated in front of him.

Galen affected an indignant tone and challenged, "Mr. Foyle, do you expect me to believe that you and Samantha are not… How did you phrase it, 'actively pur ...?"

Foyle cut him off and down as swiftly as possible, "No! Nor, do I expect _you_ or anyone else to make such an unfounded accusation against Sam, _ever_. Yes, we are friends. We have been very good friends for years. I hope we continue to be; indefinitely."

Foyle hadn't dared break eye contact or momentum, although he desperately wanted to check with Sam before he said anymore. He squeezed her hand at 'very good friends for years' but instead of squeezing back she stood, sank one knee into the cushion and put an arm across Foyle's shoulders as he said 'continue to be; indefinitely'. That gave him more than enough reinforcement to finish his assertion.

"But we _are not_ , and _have not_ , pursued any indecorous behavior. I have _always_ held Sam in the highest regard and greatest respect. That will never change."

Once he reached his conclusion, Sam eased her chin down to rest atop his shoulder and addressed her uncle, "Uncle Galen, it has only been today that Christopher and I have even broached the subject of our friendship potentially becoming something more. In a way we have you to thank for that. And, you should know that Christopher is a man of his word. We have not been 'living in sin'." She restated his point decisively to show they were in agreement.

"Meaning, you will if the church does not grant you permission to remarry?"

The eyes of all four Stewart men shifted to the couple. Foyle waited a moment, but Sam stiffened next to him instead of speaking. In a show of support he shifted and turned just enough to slip an arm around her waist; deftly turning the back of his hand to the side of her waist so as not to appear too familiar with her and spoke for them both with unmistakable authority, "No. That was _not_ her meaning. Neither of us would do that. If you, that is the church, choose to deny Sam the freedom to remarry, we will remain friends. We will continue to spend time together, take meals, travel and have what relationship we can short of 'living in sin'."

Galen looked as though he would pounce but Foyle noted the gap in information and hastened to clarify, "And, no, I did not mean we would 'pursue' sinful acts _outside_ of living together. I told you I respect Sam and I always will. That includes reserving such 'pursuits' to the honor of marriage."

Iain had reached his limit of hearing to his daughter's personal life being so opening discussed, "Enough! That is entirely enough out of everyone!" He pinned Galen with a strong unwavering look. "Galen, for years we have willing deferred to your decisions in such matters; in deference to your being a Bishop. We all understand your feeling that you are under a higher level of moral scrutiny than we are as vicars. But, Christopher is correct; it is not fair to set Samantha out as an example. My daughter has been through enough pain and heartbreak in recent years to last anyone a lifetime. I will not standby and allow for more to be heaped upon her, especially in a circumstance as unjust as this one."

Iain looked at his daughter with an expression so full of love, Foyle felt his own emotions begin to rise and swallowed hard to tamp them down.

When her father's attention settled on Foyle they exchanged a knowing look before he turned back to Sam and said, "I don't believe it is yet too cold for you and Christopher to take a walk down by Parkin's orchard, Samantha."

With a quick glance to Foyle he added, "The stars are quite brilliant from there; in the dark of the evening."

Aubrey hastily offered, "Samantha dear, you know where the torches are. Do be sure to take one with you."


	7. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

See Prologue Part 1 of 2 for Disclaimer, Spoiler and Author's Note

Foyle brought his arm from Sam's waist to hold her hand as he stood and waited for her to get to both feet.

"If you will excuse us gentlemen, we will see you later."

He gave them a nod as Sam offered a hasty general good-bye to all four men at once.

They made their way to the kitchen for a torch and then on to the backdoor. Coats, hats and scarves were donned just as rapidly as their hands and fingers allowed; before the pair all but ran out the door. Foyle reclaimed Sam's hand as soon as she had pulled the door shut. They held a brisk pace to the vicarage gate; it wasn't until they had reached the footpath that either dared to speak. They slowed their pace to a comfortable stride and Foyle tucked Sam's hand into his arm covering her hand with his.

"Christopher, I'm Sor ..."

"Don't Sam. No apologies. We agreed we're in this together. First step's over; on to the next. _Together_."

"Right. I think it's gonna be a big one."

"The next step?"

"Yeah."

"Not for us." He stated as if it were an inarguable fact.

Sam's, "What?" sounded her confusion.

"Your father, Aubrey, and Everett are handling that one." Foyle shook his head slowly and briefly held a sympathetic expression; for her benefit. "Bless'em."

Sam couldn't help herself; she started to laugh at him and his unexpected show of humor.

They both chuckled and enjoyed the relief they felt after such a stressful experience. They came to the end of the path along the vicarage grounds and turned the corner. The lights from the house were instantly obscured and Sam switched the torch on. Walking in a comfortable silence, they continue along the footpath towards Parkin's orchard.

When they reached the edge of the orchard, Sam switched off the torch and took his hand; leading him along a trail she wove through to the middle of the trees. Iain had been right. The stars were brilliant; vivid lights in the velvet blue black of the night sky. Foyle stepped behind Sam and wrapped his arms loosely around her, resting his head next to hers. She felt their hats shift as they were gently rubbed together by his movements. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she brought her hands to his arms.

He spoke very softly, aware of how close he was to her ear, "Beautiful. Unfortunately, it becomes easy to forget such views exist."

Sam sighed, her volume low to match his, "I know. I really have disliked living in London; too big, too noisy, too bright."

She felt him nod his head in agreement. "I've missed Hastings."

"Me too."

His arms drew her a little closer. "You gonna to stay with Aubrey for a while?"

"Probably, haven't thought about it much. How long can you stay?"

"Week. Mmmaybe a little longer. As long as your uncle doesn't mind my inviting myself to extend my visit."

"He won't."

"Do you?"

"No! Not at all. I have a lot to work out and I would love to have you help me. It would be a lot easier to have things settled before I go to Hastings. Don't you think?"

"I do. Also, like the idea of helping you sort it all out."

They remained nestled together, in the orchard, for another quarter hour or so. Taking in the beauty of the star patterns in the sky; each enjoying the peace and quiet and simple togetherness the solitude afforded.

Christopher asked if they could return to the vicarage by way of the road instead of the footpath. Sam agreed, pulled the torch from her coat pocket, switched it on and then led him out of the orchard to the grassy edge along the road. Just a few feet down the road Christopher stalled. He reached for Sam's hand and switched off the torch; before he guided her into the deep inky shadows of a building row that sat back a ways from the road. He drew her into his embrace and just held her. Both remained very still and quiet for several minutes. Well after their eyes had had a chance to adjust to the deeper darkness, he framed her face in his hands and kissed her slowly. His deliberate, gentle deepening of the kiss was his way of trying to convey to her his uppermost emotions; love for her and the relief he felt in being able to show her, rather than try to tell her how he felt. Sam was caught up in his kiss; but, suddenly became very concerned when she felt a tear drop from his cheek onto hers.

Her alarm was clearly evident as she broke the kiss and softly spoke his name, "Christopher?"

"It's alright Sam. IIIII, ah just," he let out a heavy sigh and confessed, "Haven't kissed a woman since Rosalind."

Sam's heart swelled with compassion, "Oh, Christopher."

"No. Really. It's alright, Sam. I was just suddenly overcome by an unexpected sensation. Uh, a feeling." He tried to clarify.

Sam held him close, resting her head against his shoulder and waited patiently; she knew he wasn't done explaining.

A moment later he added, "It was a feeling. That I was home."

They stood together in silence for several seconds; each considering his statement.

Foyle carefully reached up to caress Sam's face. He leaned toward her and gently pressed his lips to hers in another kiss. It was just as tender as the first and he slowly deepened it the same manner. However, instead of a tear interrupting his silent communication to Sam he held her close and allowed for the kiss to evidence the depth of his commitment and devotion to her.

When he brought the kiss to an end, Sam was taken aback by the intensity of emotion as well as the physical sensation of Christopher's kiss. She found she had a hint of moisture in her own eyes at the realization that that was what it is was like to be kissed by a man who loved you. Although it was exceedingly dark in the shadows where they were, she still took a moment to hide her face in his shoulder while she composed herself.

Christopher stroked his hand down her hair a few times before asking, "You alright?"

She nodded against his shoulder and then lifted her face before breathing, "Mm, more than alright."

Sam could just make out his face in the deep shadow and placed a soft kiss to his lips before hugging him close, pressing her head to his shoulder and resting her face against his neck.

She murmured against his throat and Foyle felt as much as heard, "I've never been better."

They stayed wrapped together in the cocoon of the darkness for a few minutes.

Although he hated to end the moment he knew they would need to go in soon. Already well aware of the answer, Christopher asked, "Sam, did you have lipstick on this evening?"

Knowing there was something behind his question she answered, "Yes. Why?"

"Because I would really hate to give your Uncle Galen the satisfaction of thinking the minute I got you alone, I couldn't keep my hands off you."

She noted a hint of humor in his voice but knew he was more than a little bit serious too. "Close your eyes."

"That's what started this." His protest was devoid of any real seriousness, as his voice lilted with mirth and he closed his eyes.

As she tilted his head up by his chin she said, "Trust me."

"Always." He breathed the word so solemnly that Sam felt tears begin to pool in the corners of her eyes again.

She framed his face with her hands, tilted his head back down and kissed him tenderly. Her voice laced with emotion, she spoke just above a whisper, "I love you Christopher Foyle. Don't you _ever_ forget that."

"I won't, Sam, ever." he quietly vowed.

She tilted his head up again and reminded him to keep his eyes closed.

He reached up and angled his hat down across his eyes, "Ready."

Sam switched on the torch, shifted it around in various angles and carefully examined his face for any trace of her lipstick, "You know, I'm really the wrong person to be doing this."

He was tempted to look at her because he couldn't figure out what she was talking about and seeing her face might have helped, "Why?"

"Because, now that I know what it's like to kiss you ..."

"Steady on, Sam."

"Oh, I am trying, but it's _not_ easy." Her voice held just the slightest huskiness.

He cleared his throat and attempted to get them refocused, "Lipstick?"

"No."

"Good. Turn the light off." He said as he pulled her into another hug.

Sam switched off the torch and settled into his embrace.

Foyle held Sam in a firm embrace, enjoying the simple act of just being with her; alone and close. Their shared body heat slowly crept into his chest, and warmed his heart, in a distantly familiar way; one he recognized from many years before.

He tightened his embrace just a bit, sighed softly and spoke from that pleasant sense of warmth that was enveloping him, "I'm in love with you, Sam. And, feel most contented."

They stood silent in the embrace for a while longer before he asked, "Do you think we may have been gone too long?"

"No. But, we should probably start back."

"Right."

They separated and turned toward the vicarage. Sam switched the torch back on and kept it pointed down to the grassy edge alone the road.

Foyle brought his arm up and around her shoulders, pulling her close once again, when she slipped her arm around his waist he slowed their pace a little and asked, "Alright if we linger?"

"Yeah."

They continued in a slow advance toward the vicarage.

Sam tucked herself against his side and handed him the torch so she could wrap both arms about him. "This is nice. I hate to go in."

"Me too. But, it is getting colder and I don't think we can stay away much longer without causing problems."

"Yeah. You're right."

He placed a kiss on her head, "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Don't ever forget I love you."

"Not ever." she agreed.

They walked the rest of the way back in mutually contented silence.

After the Sunday service in Aubrey's church they retreated to the house for the remainder of the day. The skies had opened during the service and the rain fell steadily until the early morning hours of Monday. Being as they were all confined indoors the topic of Samantha and Christopher inevitably came up for discussion.

Galen wanted them married before they left Aubrey's. Foyle had protested that he could not possibly impose on Aubrey for a month's time. He innocently commented that weddings could not be held so soon; civil declarations had to be posted for 28 days, and he and Sam were both planning to return to Hastings so the declarations would need to be posted in the their local area of residence. If a special dispensation was to be given by the church for Sam to remarry in the church they would still have to wait a month for the banns to be performed. Most important to him personally was, although his private life was never up for discussion by his son, he couldn't possibly get married without Andrew present.

He concluded his counter argument to Galen and then turned to Aubrey, "Although, I would very much appreciate extending my stay the rest of the weekend."

"Of course, Christopher, as long as you wish. Or, should I say as long as you can be away from home without inconvenience."

The two friends exchanged smiles of mutual understanding. _Neither, let on that they had already discussed Christopher's staying through the week and that he and Sam would be leaving together at the end of the following weekend._

Foyle promised Galen he and Sam would discuss marriage. _He did not share they had agreed they didn't feel they were ready to get married so soon or that Sam had said she would rather wait until Adam remarried first. She had not talked with Adam but was sure once he realized he could, he wouldn't hesitate to marry again. It was important to Sam, although she couldn't say why exactly, that Adam be the first to nullify their vows. And, since Foyle didn't think that was Galen's business either; that too was kept a secret from the bishop._

Foyle curried additional favor with the collective reverend Stewarts when he avowed, "When the time comes, gentlemen, I will be pleased to have the ceremony anywhere you wish."

Galen capitulated on the point of their immediate marriage, only after securing a solemn promise from each of them that they would not live together or in any way 'become inappropriately familiar' with each other until they were married.

Monday morning, before he and Iain left, the Reverend Bishop Galen Stewart once again pressed the couple to repeat their promise to 'maintain appropriate interactions at all times; keeping a strictly chaste and proper relationship throughout their engagement, however long it may be'.

They each gave their word, _again_ , and Foyle half expected the man to require them to sign an oath of promise, before the bishop would be satisfied. He had the distinct impression they were being treated like recalcitrant youths. It did not sit well with him, but knowing the acerbic Bishop would be leaving immediately after breakfast, afforded him the extra restraint necessary to endure their remaining time together.

Aubrey, Everett, and especially Sam, were impressed with how cordial Christopher was to Galen; the remainder of the morning. He was not merely civil to the prickly bishop, but was warm and engaging in a most charming and genuinely friendly manner; an easy smile frequently gracing his features. _What no one but Foyle knew, about those smiles, was he was operating from his own sense of fairness and devotion. Galen's criticism and judgement had ceased to make any difference to him, whatsoever; once Sam's future was once again her own to control. Throughout the morning, he kept repeating to himself: Galen's coerced promises meant nothing. Each time the bishop made a disagreeable comment; Foyle simply reminded himself that he was far removed from being a randy teenager and knew that patience and self-control could reap greater rewards at the conclusion of 'the waiting'. For that and Sam's honor he was willing and able to wait. And, that wasn't any of Galen' business either._


End file.
